


Cake & Kisses

by mehlisssa



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, also picnics, it's very random, lots of fluffy anecdotes included, pregnant elriel!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 08:21:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15945458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mehlisssa/pseuds/mehlisssa
Summary: "Expecting Elriel enjoys a sunny afternoon" - based on a request on this tumblr post: https://fucking-winchester-trash.tumblr.com/post/177399557225/shadowsofthenightcourt-expecting-elriel





	Cake & Kisses

“Are you sure you’re not tired?” Azriel asked again. He was walking through the grassy field with one hand in Elain’s, the other gingerly holding a picnic basket. 

She gave him what she hoped was a somewhat healthy-looking smile, even as she was shuffling down the grassy hillside with all the comfort and grace of a waddling goose. “I’m fine, really,” Elain assured him. 

Azriel seemed to relax at her smile, something she had found always brightened his mood - as if her face alone made everything more bearable. Azriel would come back late at night, familiar shadows in his eyes that came from the life he led of torture and secrecy, and Elain would smile and pat the space on the bed next to her. Sometimes, neither of them would even say a word, she letting him collapse beside her, and smile until the darkness drew back, leaving Azriel content to let Elain lie with the barest, most vulnerable version she had of him - her favorite. 

“I could carry you,” Azriel tried again, looking down at her honestly. 

Elain gave him a look. “No, you  _ can’t _ ” she chastised him gently. Up until the sixth month of her pregnancy, he’d insisted on flying her everywhere in his arms, a safe haven he knew he could protect - both for her and their unborn child. Elain had not minded at first, loving the feeling of being cocooned in his warm arms, strong and unyielding against the world. But then, last week, she’d found him red-faced and panting outside the store he’d dropped her at, clearly trying to hide his fatigue. 

“It’s not that you’re too heavy!” he’d protested when she’d found him, eyes wide and panicked. “I’d fly you anywhere, Elain, I can -”

She’d stopped him, a laugh bubbling up in her throat. “You should’ve told me! Azriel, I’ve gained thirty-five pounds - I’m under no illusions that I’m easy to haul around Velaris.”

Azriel seemed put-out at his own lack of strength, as if it were a fault of his that he wasn’t able to carry someone six months pregnant without breaking a sweat. “Still - I’m sorry. . .I really wanted to help,” he’d mumbled, almost _ashamed._

Elain just shook her head and grinned, touched that her husband cared so much about the smallest things, trying to please her in every way. “You’re already helping enough,” she’d answered reassuringly, then kissed him before he could protest. 

Even today, Azriel pouted at her response, refusing to accept the fact that there were actual  _ physical limitations  _ to what he could do for her. 

“The picnic grounds are fifty feet away,” she said, squeezing his hand tighter in hers. He swiftly brought their intertwined fingers up to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “Which is why I wouldn’t get tired carrying you there,” he murmured, smiling sweetly against her skin. 

Elain was struck then, by the shadowsinger before her, looking like an absolutely lovestruck boy instead of a cold-blooded spymaster he portrayed himself as to so many. Even his closest friends rarely passed through the veil of silence he draped around himself, curtains to shield his heart, feelings he was so content to close off to others. To so many, he was cold and deadly, his reserved nature simply a reflection of his brutality. But not to Elain. She got to see the warm, loving heart underneath the still mask of his face more than anyone. Even for his brothers, it was a compassion that came out rarely, a treasure to be remembered. For Elain, it was a daily fortune, from the sweet kisses he gave her to the scarred hand that would never shy away from  _ her  _ touch. She knew that there was a closeness she had with Ariel that he wouldn’t have with anyone else, an intimacy that was always so ready to let her behind the curtain, forgoing any illusion at all - just for her. 

“What are you smiling at?” he asked softly, with a gentleness that seemed to break her heart. Azriel tugged her closer to him, sending her lightly stumbling into his chest. 

She braced her other hand on his tunic, a blush forming around her grin. “You,” she murmured back, quietly tracing the lines on his shirt. 

“I make you that happy?” he answered back, reverent and yet. . .serious, an edge of sincerity that wasn’t there before. 

And Elain was half-startled, half-wrecked at the question, as if he truly didn’t know. Wouldn’t believe it, unless she gave him proof. That he doubted it, questioned even for a second that her heart didn’t wholly belong to him, made Elain feel like breaking - at the insecurity that still festered in the beautiful shadowsinger. A stain on his soul she would try until the day she died to erase, with all the love she could give him. 

“Of  _ course  _ you do,” she answered, staring intensely into his wary eyes, wanting to banish any and all blackness that still lingered. 

And then there was only adoration left in those eyes, as if all he could see was her, and nothing else. He leaned down, having to bend his back even farther, and took her lips with a soft, cherishing kiss that expressed his appreciation for everything. For loving him, for her happiness - and now, the child they would share together. 

A long, blissful moment passed before they broke, and Elain halted an inch away from Azriel, letting their breaths mingle together. “We should probably go sit at the picnic site now,” she observed quietly, backing away from her husband (no matter how much it pained her to do so). 

Azriel nodded, resuming their walk again. She could feel him visibly relax, both in the fingers laced in hers and the calmer set of his shoulders, not as tight as before. Soon enough, Azriel was spreading the blanket over the ground and helping Elain down onto it. She spread her legs out under her loose, flowing maternity dress, bracing her arms behind her back to keep herself upright. Azriel sat down in front of her in a crouch, bringing the basket between them. 

“What did Nuala and Cerridwen make today?” Elain asked, eyeing the basket. She’d wanted to help, but she, as the two wraiths had recently starting doing, was shooed out because they ‘wouldn’t be responsible for any of her discomfort.’ “They wouldn’t let me help.”

At that, Azriel dropped his head, but Elain could still see the red blooming on his cheeks through the dark hair he tried to hide it behind. “Actually,” he started, clearing his throat nervously. “I made it. With them - they asked you leave because I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Really?” Elain gasped, a surprised smile lighting up her face. She scrambled towards the basket, trying to reach over her belly, but Azriel held it aloft.

“I don’t want you to get disappointed if it’s not as good, okay?” he said in warning, seemingly intimidated by her expectations. “Don’t be afraid to tell me.”

Elain couldn’t care less, only reached up to grab the basket from him. He reluctantly let go, and Elain wanted to laugh at the fearful anticipation in his expression. She pulled back the basket covers and peered in to find two small cakes in the bottom. They were messily frosted, with pastel fondant flowers and leaves pressed onto the tops - fingernail prints both on them and around the decorations. She giggled at the sight, imagining her husband painstakingly molding the tiny pieces of fondant with clumsy hands, frustratingly spreading frosting onto them in an effort to smooth the layers out. 

“It’s that bad?” Azriel answered, playfully wrinkling his nose at her reaction. “Cerridwen must’ve  _ really  _ pitied me. . .”

Elain shook her head and got up on her knees over the basket. “I love it,” she whispered, as if it was a secret, and reached up to cup his cheek in her palm. Just the fact that he’d tried to do something he was so inexperienced at, on the off chance that it would please her, made them perfect. 

A small smile slipped out from Azriel at her words, and she could feel him almost imperceptibly lean into her. Elain’s thumb moved to the dimple forming on his cheek, a feature that very few knew he had. It was such a small thing, a miniscule little indent that seemed to take over his entire face when he smiled. She thought it made him even more beautiful, like it was a secret only she knew. Elain would never forget his smile, how easily it came to him when he was around her, the vulnerability it represented. She hated the person Azriel’s work made him pretend to be, and wanted to live only here, in this moment, when there was no spymaster or shadowsinger - only the man she’d fallen in love with. She thought of how lucky their child would be, to have  _ Azriel  _ as a father - with none of the titles people associated with him. 

“I hope our baby has your dimples,” Elain said to him, and he brightened at her words - smiling wider now. 

“I hope our baby gets everything else from you, then,” Azriel countered adoringly. And it was the way he’d looked at her, as if it wasn’t just a joke - as if he really  _ did  _ love everything about her - that made Elain lean in farther to press a smiling kiss to his lips. 

It was a beautiful day, and she was sitting on a blanket with her beautiful husband, and she wished she could freeze time right then and there - so she could live in that moment forever. 


End file.
